The Funny Thing About Vampires
by AIs4Awsome
Summary: okay so what if vampires took over the world? i suck at summaries so please read!
1. Chapter 1

Oh America. It's been exactly five months and one week since your relatively peaceful, trigger happy little nation became enveloped in this great shit storm. I wish I could tell you that this was still a America but I've come to realize that you need to have people to be a country. And there are no people here. Murderous blood sucking freaks don't count.

Fun Fact That's Not Really All That Fun: It's also now been exactly six months and two weeks since I shot my father with a Winchester rifle named (for serious) Winnifred. I shit you not.

Before that overly imaginative little mind of yours starts flipping the fuck out and no doubt automatically begins jumping to the worst possible case scenario I would just like to say – in my defense – it totally wasn't one of those teen angst ridden random acts of violence; the kind that the news channels and press practically lived for once upon a time when the world was a relativley a sane place. Before people started going missing and turning into crazy mo fo's with unquenchable thirsts for blood.

You see, I shot Dad because he kind of, sort of turned into a – well, the V word. I am not going to say the V word because that'll mean that shit just got very real and that would pop this very carefully plotted bubble of denial I've got going on. Honestly, it's the only thing keeping me from completley losing my marbles right now. Well, that and the secrete stash of Mars Bars me and my little brother Jake have got hidden under the back seat of Dad's old piece of shit truck. You spread that last little piece of information and I swear I'll have you assassinated. I know people who know people. Comprende?

So back to this whole dealio with me shooting Dad…I guess I'll have to go back to the very beginning to fully explain this one. As in right back to when all this crazy V-word shit first really began to snowball...

**Note de author: if you want me to continue im afraid im gonna have to ask you guys to give me some reviews/feedback. i kinda dont really wanna write a story that no ones gonna read. how pointless, right? so yeahh. til then this is one dead ducky...xoxo**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, so this is a continuation. It's not complete ovbiously and I'll continue with it once I get some reviews/comments so i know people are still reading. It's a work in progress so be kind :P**

It's a Saturday night - which means only one thing. Dad's getting himself dickered at the Crazy Jack Rabbit, Still Creek's local bar. It's a Saturday night tradition we've come to know and - let's be honest here - not exactly love.

I don't know about you but waking up to the sound of your father puking his guts out in the tacky umbrella stand beside the back door doesn't exactly scream a happening time in my books. Last time I checked, it was supposed to be the teenaged daughter getting plastered out of her mind on a Saturday night, not her father. My not–much-of-a- family is a bit different from the average quintessential all American family to say the least; and that's putting it nicely. Fucked up would be a far more apt description of us Tassey's..

Anyway, so I'm sitting here home alone on a Saturday night trying to finish this stupid assignment for Biology class. Our small crap-shack of a house is almost ridiculously quiet, probably because Jake is also MIA tonight; no doubt hanging with some of his fellow grade eight buddies. Fourteen years old and the little spit fuck has more of a life than I'll ever have. Can anyone spell "eff my my life?"

I guess the reason why I don't have a life is due to the fact that I've always been a bit of a loner (and trust me when I say it's not a life choice). I don't exactly "fit in" at my school. Partly because I'm too busy studying my brains out most nights with the solitary goal of getting out of this littl shit hole of a town and into a half decent out-of-state university; and partly because, well, let's face it. If you looked up the word invisible in the dictionary you'd probably find a picture of me right beside it.

Pretty cutting edge stuff, huh? A young teenage girl feeling anonymous;_ I'm invisible and have no friends - I'm probably gonna die a virgin and then get eaten by my fifty cats wahhhh_. Trust me when I say I like to pride myself in not being one of those girls. I may be a loner but that doesnt mean I don't have a pair of lady balls.

As I was saying... I'm sitting all by my little lonesome at my desk slogging my way through the Bio assignment from hell. It's roughly two in the morning; I say roughly 'cause Dad forgot to pay the hydro bill again leaving me, quite literally, in the dark. No electricity for us. Boo hoo. Hence the reason why I'm writing this assignment by candle light - making me feel uncomfortably like a I'm some kind of Dickens character. Of course, the lack of power has also rendered my bedside clock completely useless. And seeing as I'm not the kind to own a watch, the whole practice of keeping time is kind of lost on me right now.

I am half way through trying to figure out the tiny insignificant little differences between mitosis and ketosis (question: who gives a rats ass?) when I am suddenly jerked back to reality by the sound of my cell phone going off. It's on its last legs of battery now thanks to the whole power being out ordeal and the unfortunate fact that I am unable to charge it. It's because of that reason that I hesitate to answer it – not wanting to waste what precious battery life I have left. Then again… it could be Jake asking me to pick him up or something. As much as the kid annoys me, I'd feel like a pretty shitty excuse of a sister if I left him hanging.

"Hello?" I say, snapping my phone open.

"A homeleth man bith me." A man's voice slurs from the other end.

"Uh, what?" I ask, attempting –and failing - to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

I mean, figures some drunk prank caller would call me just in time to waste the last of my phone's battery.

"A HOMELETH MAN BITH ME!" the guy repeats, louder this time. Right. As if yelling will make me understand his gibberish.

" Uh, I can't understand you. Speak slower."

"A. Homeless. Man. Bit. Me!"

It takes me approximately half a second to fully realize it's not some random guy drunk dialing me. It's my** Dad** whose drunk dialing me. Only in my family would this happen. Seriously.

"A homeless guy bit you?" I repeat.

"Yesthhh." Dad slurs.

I roll my eyes. I mean, Dad must be pretty fucking plastered. I fight back the urge to hang up on him and instead decide to throw him a bone and ask, "Where did the homeless guy bite you, Dad?" I wonder if he's too drunk to pick up on the obvious sarcasm in my voice.

"Dunno. Outside the Rabbit, I think. Can't memember."

I let out a sigh, making the phone go all crackly. "No, Dad, I meant where on your body did the homeless guy bite you?"

There's a long pause and for a moment I think he's actually hung up on me. Or passed out. I'm just about to make a bet that it's the second one when he suddenly says, "On my neckth."

"On your neck?"

"Yesthhhhh."

I am just barely able to resist the urge to begin banging my head ceaselessly against my desk. I mean, why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? Out of the thousands of teenage girls all over the world why am I the one who has to have an alcoholic father who drunk dials me in the wee hours of the morning telling me that he just got bitten on the neck by some kind of rabid hobo? It's not fair.

I rub my forehead in a desperate attempt to keep my cool.

"Is there a reason why the guy bit you, Dad?"

"I stepped out for a smoke and the fuckin' sonofabitch came right outta nowhere." he answeres, ignoring my question. "Didn't even see him comin."

Of course he didn't. Dad is probably so completley wasted right now he's hallucinating. Would'nt be the first time.

I close my eyes, let out another sigh. My patience with Dad and his drunken shennanigans is seriously starting to wear thin.

"Look, Dad, I really have to finnish this assigment. You can tell me all about the crazy, rabid homless man when you get home, alright?"

There's a breif moment of silence and then..."Can you pick me up?"

Fuck me. I shoud've known he was gonna ask.

"Actually, Dad, I really have to -""

"S'okay." he mumbles into the phone and I have to strain to hear him "You don't have to. You work on you're lil assigment. I'll see ya in the mornin', June."

I wince at the sound of my mothers name. Dad has this really annoying habit of calling me June when he's dunk. I don't know if it's because I have the same dark features as Mom or if he's secretley still not over her walking out on us four years ago. Either way, it seriously pisses me off.

"Nevermind. It's okay, I'll pick you up." I say really fast. The minute he starts calling me June I know he's going to pass out soon. That's what always happens. And there's no way I'm letting Dad pass out in a ditch in the middle of nowhere. He may not be father of the year but he's still my dad.

"Where are you?" I ask.

"Uh...the Rabbit."

Of course he is.

"Okay, just give me a minute and I'll be right there, okay, Dad? Don't move."

"S'okay." Dad happily slurs, "What woud I do without my Junebug?"

As if on cue my phone goes completley silent. Fucking batteries out. Should've seen that one coming.


End file.
